The Game
by Madame Hatter
Summary: One-shot. Elphaba runs away once again. This time the chase directs her to cross paths with two people carrying heavy burdens and a hole in their hearts only Elphaba can fill. Subtle Avaric and Elphaba pairing. Please read and review!


_**Author's Note: My first Wicked one-shot! I hope it turned out okay... Please tell me if it's alright? I'm unsure about my skill at present tense first-person so any sort of feedback/reviews would be so helpful! Thank you so much! Oh, and I think the Avaric/Elphaba pairing is odd, but quite tempting.  
**_

**The Game**

It's a shame my father hates me so much. I'd be well-behaved if it weren't for his condescending remarks and constant put-downs. But, the man enjoys it, I think. He likes to blame me for his dead wife and invalid daughter (he underestimates my sister).

"Excuse me, where am I?" I ask the merchant spraying the green collards on the stand. Green. I lower my eyes to the ground, keeping the hood over my head.

"Vinkus," he replies without looking up.

It seems that everyone at the Winkie Country possesses this cavalier, I-don't-give-a-tick-tock-about-you attitude. Perhaps a little scare might get him to talk. I unveil my face and clear my throat. "I'm aware I'm in Vinkus. I'd like to know exactly which village I'm in."

He lifts his chin and there's a lovely glaze over his eyes of horror and panic. "Sweet Oz… you're green!"

"Yes, I am green. I've eaten the vegetables you sell and now look at me. If you stand still, this won't hurt a bit. If you quiver, the pain will be unbearable."

Perhaps that was a bit overdramatic. Nonetheless, he scurries off shouting nonsense and I'm left quite amused. I love when they run like that.

"There she is!"

No. I never can learn to be careful. My father's guards are seen with large spears, as if they're hunting down a witch. But, really, all they're doing is tracking down the Governor's daughter, who's run away once again. This time it is about attending Shiz University. I fled before lunch. And to spare himself the humiliation in front of the royal Tiggular family, Father didn't send the guards until after tea.

He even has a special body of men for me. It's too bad they're not as attracted to me as I am to them; we'd have much fun, I think.

"Miss Elphaba! Wait!"

It's impossible to make haste with a crowd of nosy, on-looking shoppers. One thing that's to my advantage, though, is that no one would dare touch someone who is green. So I'm given less obstacles than the three well-built men chasing me, who everyone can't help but admire (and occasionally grab). Mmm. They are quite gorgeous.

"Mikelena!"

I'm pulled in one direction when I mean to go the other. A woman in her thirties has her grip on my wrist. I've never seen anyone look at me so desperately, so adoringly. I don't even think my mother ever looked at me that way.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, just slightly confused.

"Mikelena," she says breathlessly. "It's you. You've returned."

"I'm sorry, but I think you have me mistaken for someone else." I pause. Their footsteps are getting closer, but something's different. They've changed pace. Oh, how tricky they're becoming. "Which direction's the wind going?"

"Um, west, I believe," says the woman.

"Ah, it never fails me," I say grinning. "I've got time, but not much. Take me to your shelter?"

"Mikelena, of course you're coming home with me! It's been years…"

She takes me to a secluded area. Her modest home, a small cottage, borders Vinkus I think, as it overlooks leagues of cornfield. I see nothing but yellow for ages (which is strange because we have just exited the woods). It's the perfect hideaway, between two unusual ecosystems. That'll confuse the guards.

"I think they've lost our scent. Thank you so much, for your help…um, I'm sorry I didn't catch your name," I say slipping out of my black robe. The woman laughs and takes the robe from my hands. She really expects me to stay, doesn't she?

"Mikelena, have you forgotten your dear sister already? You used to call me Pocket because I used to hold candy in my pockets and you were always the one with the sweet tooth, you were. Oh, you don't know how thrilled I am to see you!"

She wraps her arms around me and I haven't the heart to break it to her. I've never been held this way before; I've never felt so loved. I realize this woman is a complete stranger and she may be a little loony, but she loves me. She doesn't condone me like my father nor does she pity me like my sister.

"We don't have much food in the house, but we'll make do," Pocket says, beaming. "I'll make your favorite dish. Okra and peanut butter stew, loaded with potatoes. You like that?"

I do. I've never had the pleasure of a real home-cooked meal. Our chef is highly trained in presentation so that quality is sacrificed. Even the dishes are prettier than I (the salads are dressed elegantly). I nod, a bit ashamed of myself. I can't lead her on like this.

"I'll get right to it then," says Pocket brightly. "We haven't much money, but another mouth to feed and clothe shouldn't be too problematic. A lot of our inheritance is being spent on your older brother's education, you know. He's such a genius."

Apparently, I have a brother. Oh good. Maybe he can teach me how to shoot a moving target. Or three (make that four, my father deserves to die early).

"Lovely, he's here," says Pocket, looking over her shoulder. Standing at the doorway is a young man about a year or two older than me. He's a bit boyish looking. His body is thin and a bit lanky, but his shoulders are broad. His face, although youthful, is worn—tired eyes, stubble around the chin and wrinkles where there shouldn't be.

"Sis, are you alright?" he asks. He's suspicious. Of course he is. I can't say I wouldn't be a little suspicious if my sister was talking with an odd-looking (though quite curvy, I must say) green girl.

"Avaric, look! Mikelena is here! I told you she'd come back, didn't I? I told you!"

He doesn't seem as happy to see me. Actually, it's a refreshing reaction. He doesn't scream or run away. There isn't fear or alarm in his eyes. He doesn't falter. But, I do sense a bit of disgust. I'm okay with that. In fact, I was getting worried that I may have been losing my touch.

"Hello," he says. He doesn't stick a hand out to shake. They never do. Oh, how wonderful it would be to have a gentleman kiss me on the hand. "Sis, you really should get back in the house. It's getting chilly."

"We'll have to drag the old mattress out of the crawl space," she tells him. He merely nods and puts a hand on her shoulder. He tries to lead her into the house. "And we'll have to beat the old mattress, too, it'll be a lot of work…"

"I'll do that after supper, sis," he says. He throws me a few curious glances. Great, he probably thinks I'm a moocher who's taking advantage of his crazy sister.

"Will you gather some wood while I prepare the food?"

"Yes, sis."

"Maybe Mikelena can help? She always did love following you around when you were little, she was practically your second shadow…"

I can still hear her voice as she disappears into the house. She's so charming. It's a pity I have to leave her, especially now that her brother is scrutinizing me with his large blue eyes.

"I'm so sorry for intruding, I'll be going—"

"Who are you?" he questions cagily.

"No one." I love telling the truth. "I am no one."

"Really?" He draws a bit closer. His gaze is heavy and I look down so I don't feel its weight on my shoulders. He knows there's something strange about me. Well… stranger than that.

"I'm going to go now," I say. "Tell your sister she can keep the robe, as a parting gift."

"You can't leave now," he says, sighing. "She expects you to stay. As much as it pains me, you'll have to stay for supper." Apparently, he's more thwarted than he is eager for my company. He leads the way into the woods, gathering pieces of dry timber along the way. I pick up a few pieces as well so he'll think I'm a _kind_ moocher, at the very least.

There is a small brook nearby. It's so cold and blue that for once I don't mind marveling at my own reflection. In my narcissistic moment, I almost don't notice him staring at me.

I clear my throat, slightly embarrassed. What features could I possibly be marveling at, right? "So."

"So? So what?"

"So, don't you want to shove me in the water to see whether I float or not?" A little sarcasm always holds a bit of truth.

"I was only thirsty," he says, setting his firewood down. He crouches and swoops his hand into the water, takes it in one gulp. "Besides, water's too shallow."

I smile. We might get along. "I'm sorry to disappoint your sister."

"She'll be alright."

"Forgive me for asking, but who is Mikelena?"

"She was our younger sister." He sits down. He has the carriage of someone so much older. "You do remind me of her."

"Come now, I bet she was very pretty."

There's a curl on his lips. He's quite handsome when he smiles. "She had the strangest diseases. Her skin was as green as the grass. She had the rarest allergy to water. When Pocket bathed her, her skin would turn red so she'd have to wash her with oils. She couldn't even shed a tear or she'd break out."

"Your mother…" I blurt it suddenly, unaware that my lips were moving. I need to know about her. If there are more like me, I need to know how came to be.

"She's dead. She's had her share of lovers. Pocket is my half sister. So was Mikelena. Sometimes, I wondered if she ever loved us." I know how he feels. There's nothing more agonizing than wondering the answers to questions you can never have fulfilled.

"Being green isn't a disease," I say. "It's a gift."

"It's a curse."

"Perhaps it's a bit of both." There's an interesting rock at the edge of the brook. I start carving at it with one of the firewood I had picked up. "Did you love her?"

"Who?"

"Mikelena."

He's quiet for a moment. There's now something fascinating about his hands because he's studying them carefully. Rocks and hands. They do become mesmerizing in the right situations. "Sometimes I loved her. Her eyes, her boldness, the way she walked and talked were all like me. And then sometimes I couldn't stand to look at her."

"Pocket must have loved her unconditionally." I don't mean to mock him. It just sort of happens. I guess you can call it a defense tactic.

He stands and I wonder if I should stand too. This rock is, in fact, very interesting. And I don't want it to seem like I'm afraid of him. Although as he approaches, I feel my confidence subsiding. He pulls up his sleeves and his arms flex as he clenches his fists. He's strong, I know it. I can probably outrun him, but I'm not too sure. He lives on open land; I'm stuck at the mansion. He has the advantage.

I know I'm weakening. My eyes aren't able to meet his gaze. It's a lot like chess, this power contest. Clearly, he's winning. His strategy is all too clean. He towers over me and I feel my heart beating against my chest. "Dip your hand in the water."

"What?" I lift my head. He has to be joking. His face was stern, but his eyes were warm. "You've got to be kidding."

"Come on."

I try to laugh, but it comes out shaky. It's the most ridiculous request I've ever heard. "You're a bit mad, you know that?"

"Like my sister?" he asks. I don't think that at all. I think he's a lost soul who doesn't know why everything bad happens to him. He's like me. "Give me your hand."

I hesitate. He leans over and I can see the line of sweat sliding down his neck. His hand slips around mine, coarse but tender. I've never been touched so softly before. His lips are near my ear. I see him watching me. "Let me have your hand."

Our fingers intertwine and he brings our hands down to the water. Before we submerge, he squeezes. I nervously squeeze back.

The water is ice and my skin instantly numbs. I try not to frown. Under the water, I can't feel his hand around mine. Already, I miss his grasp. In its place, however, are his sensitive eyes observing me, reading my body language and my facial expressions.

"Satisfied?" I have to break it. I can't stand anyone looking at me like that. It scares me.

"I had to make sure," he whispers quietly. He lets go and moves back. "And we had to wash up for dinner anyway."

Everything blurs for a moment and a vision appears. Angry faces, my father's voice, feet shuffling pass rustling leaves and spears at hand. My father's guards. When everything comes to, I'm on all fours and Avaric has his arm around me. He's asking me if I'm alright.

Then a blood-curdling scream.

We run. I stand corrected. I'm the faster runner after all. Perhaps it's the adrenaline speeding me up. Or maybe something is slowing him down.

"Sis!" he calls. "Get back in the house!"

"They want to take her away!" she cries. The three guards have formed a half circle in front of Pocket, cornering her, their spears pointed at her chest.

"Leave her alone or I'll rip your bloody head off!" Avaric offers them a most promising ultimatum. Naive but brassy. I like it.

"She's holding Miss Elphaba Thropp of Munchkinland captive! The Governor's green daughter!" one of them yells. Aw, you see, that was mean. Now we can't have that foursome I've so longed for.

"You're the Governor's daughter?" asks Avaric.

I ignore his question. I manage to slide between Pocket and the spears, shielding her from its sharp tips. "Captive?" I cackle. "And what do you suppose you're trying to do to me? I'm not some game to be hunted."

"Miss Elphaba! Thank Oz you're not hurt! Don't protect this woman. She's dangerously daft."

"You're dangerously daft!" I yell. My blood begins to boil and my fingers begin to twitch involuntarily. I know what's about to happen. "Avaric, stay back!"

I've timed it right. The guards freeze for a moment, but only a moment, their eyes rolling back. Then it's clockwork pandemonium. Legs, arms, spears, torsos flail and bend and move to and fro. It's spastic, it's uncontrollable. I shield Pocket as much as I can. We move back, as quickly, as carefully as we can, but they follow, their movements large and swift.

"What is this, some sort of freak attack?" demands Avaric, terrified and perplexed.

"Avaric, don't you come any closer!" I plead panicking.

"Pocket—"

"Avaric, don't be foolish!" He doesn't listen. He doesn't think. Love blinds him. He grabs his sister's arm and pulls her to him. Instinctively, I tug her back. It's too late, however. She's a wide-open target and welcomes a spear right through her stomach.

She's red all over, her head leaned back and her lips pale and purple. My father's guards are quite compulsive, they sharpen the tips of their spears four times a day so I imagine it was more than painful when the blade ripped through her skin. The instant it happen I had another horrible vision, only a flash, but it was so clear. I saw the blade as it pierced through her body, a close-up, and her skin and internal organs tore as easily as the fabric of her clothes.

Unfortunately, that's not the first time I've seen my father's guards kill at my expense.

"Pocket!"

"Stop it," I say, breathing slowly. "Stop it, Avaric, she's gone."

"No!"

The guards have disappeared. I don't know where they are. I don't care. I have to get away.

"If you had just let me have her, she would still be alive!"

Maybe he's right. I turn to leave. "I have to go."

"And I was dense enough to think you…that I…"

You know, I wish I were allergic to water. It would keep me from crying.

_**Author's note: Thank you for reading! Haha, it ended darker than I initially planned. I believe I have fallen for the Avaric/Elphaba shipping!**_


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